Episodes: Code Breaker (1x12)
XXXIV
"Pick up, pick up, come on…" Malia looked from the road to her phone, hanging up and dialing again. Finally, after what had to be her fourth attempt, he answered.
"Malia?" Danny's voice was tense and frazzled. "Where the hell are you? Lydia was attacked by something. They evacuated the school. Erica went to the hospital. I looked for you, but I didn't have long before they told us we needed to go home. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Not really, but now wasn't the time to work through it. Malia squeezed the steering wheel until it whined and she was forced to let go. How would she even explain that to her dad? "Listen, Danny, I need you to do something for me and it's not going to make much sense."
"What? Right now?"
"I'm on my way to the hospital to check on Lydia. But I need you track Stiles' phone."
"Stiles? What? Why?"
She slowed at a red light but realizing there was no one in the area, sped up instead and blew through it. Time felt like it was simultaneously moving too fast and too slow. There were just too many moving pieces, too many people unaccounted for. "Because he's missing and this might be the only way to find him."
"Does his dad know? Was he attacked like Lydia?" Danny groaned. "What the hell is going on?"
"Danny, please." She bit her lip when her voice quavered. This was Stiles. This was for Stiles. She needed to keep it together. "I don't have time to explain. Just, can you track his phone? Using GPS or whatever?"
"I— Yeah, probably, yeah."
"Okay. Do that. Please. I- I'll explain later."
Danny paused and then asked, "Do you know his username and password?"
Malia blinked and shook her head as she tried to think. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she said, "Uh, uh, it's Star Wars related. Oh! It's lukestiwalker, with an s-t-i, all lowercase, 24."
"lukestiwalker24," Danny repeated. "Okay, password?"
Malia frowned. "0319, Lydia with a capital-L and the A is an at-sign, 1994."
"0319Lydi 1994. Got it."
"Thank you." A rush of relief spread through her. "Call me when you know where he is."
"All right. But Malia…"
"Yeah?"
"We're gonna talk after this. I mean it."
Malia swallowed tightly. "I know. We will."
Hanging up, Malia looked ahead to where the hospital came into view. She pressed down harder on the gas.
…
Chris crossed the driveway to the SUV where Allison sat slumped in the passenger seat, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked pale, brow furrowed and eyes distant as she stared at her hands. He swallowed a sigh. This wasn't how he wanted to introduce this world to her. There were still too many loose ends, questions he didn't have answers to, people he hadn't vetted completely. Scott McCall was a werewolf, but what were his friends? Had his daughter unintentionally surrounded herself with the enemy? Or had they purposely surrounded her?
An unenthusiastic Kate sat behind the wheel.
Chris bent at the window and rested an arm over it, staring at Allison searchingly.
"You know you can't do this without me," Kate insisted. "You're not going to find him on your own."
Ignoring her, Chris focused on Allison. "We're going to talk about everything. I promise." He kept his voice soft, gentle, for the girl she'd been and not the one this world would shape her into. For a little while still, she would remain in the dark. Until Derek Hale, Scott McCall, and the Alpha were handled, Allison would be somewhere far away and all the safer for it. But an inevitability had settled over things now. She knew too much to remain ignorant.
Kate sat back, fuming as she stared out the window.
Sighing, Allison tipped her head back and met his gaze.
"Call me when you get there." Smiling, he tapped her chin affectionately.
Allison nodded.
As he stepped back, an irritated Kate pulled away.
Victoria stepped up next to him, watching the SUV drive away. "Is she right?" She turned to him expectantly. "Can you find the Alpha?"
"No. But Scott McCall can, and I know how to find him."
Victoria stared at him a beat and then a knowing smile forming on her mouth. "Young love."
He hummed. "I'll pay her house a visit."
"Watch out for her dad," Victoria warned. "He hunts, doesn't he?"
Chris half-smiled, amused. "I hardly think deer counts."
"A gun is a gun. And you, more than anyone, know how protective a father can be."
Taking that in, he nodded. "You're right."
She rubbed a hand over his shoulder. "I always am."
…
Stiles' gaze bounced around the quiet underground parking garage Peter had directed him to. He pulled into an empty space and hopped out. Before he could question why they were there, Peter gripped the shoulder of his shirt and dragged him along, passing four cars before he let go. He stopped at the trunk and dug a set of keys out.
"Whose car is this?" Stiles wondered.
"It belonged to my nurse." He unlocked the trunk.
"What happened to your—" As the trunk opened completely, Stiles was met with the decomposing body of Jennifer the batshit nurse. "Oh my God!"
Peter lifted up her limp, bluish-purple arm to get a bag out from beneath it. He handed it to a slack-jawed, horror-struck Stiles, who hugged the bag to his chest, unable to tear his eyes away. Glancing from Jennifer to Stiles and back, Peter shrugged. "I got better." He slammed the trunk closed.
…
Scott stood on Malia's porch, his foot tapping anxiously as he waited for Shiloh to finishing peeing. Currently, she was wandering around the weeds, sniffing out a good place to go.
Scott couldn't help his impatience. Every minute felt like an hour. What if the Argents caught Malia? What if they figured out what she was? What if the Alpha was hunting her down, collecting her along with Stiles? He had to do something. He couldn't just hide in her house, hoping for the best. Yes, things were being worked on, but what if Danny couldn't, or wouldn't, find Stiles?
He needed help. Real help.
He needed Derek.
Finished peeing, Shiloh suddenly spotted something in the trees. She lunged toward it but was hindered by her splinted leg. Still, she barked, her fur bristling as she warned off whatever animal had wandered too close. Growling and barking, she stamped her front paws, snapping her teeth, until Scott could hear the scurry of exiting paws. A beat passed before Shiloh's tail started to wag and she wandered back to Scott.
A thought occurred to him. One he hadn't considered before, even though it seemed so obvious now.
Sending a silent apology to Malia, he brought Shiloh back inside, closed the door, and paused outside. He needed a good vantage point; somewhere that would make sure that no matter where Derek was, he would be able to hear him. Hopping off the porch, he raced toward the trees.
The cliff overlooking town…
He needed to get up high, where an echo could carry his voice.
…
Allison rested against her knees, legs pulled up to her chest. She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and stifled a yawn. She felt emotionally exhausted in a way that seemed, at this point, to be so… repetitive. She felt helpless and angry and betrayed and lost and… She hated that the one person she wanted to talk to about all of it was the one person she couldn't.
Folding her arms over her knees, she leaned sideways, resting her head against the window, watching the streetlamps pass overhead. Closing her eyes, she tried to think back, to remember some sign that she missed. Proof that there was more going on. That Malia had been hiding something from her.
First, she remembered the rain. God, it had been so cold, soaking her right to the bone, as she stood in the street, stuttering excuses while Malia knelt next to an injured Shiloh.
It had all started so strangely, and Allison had tried so hard to make amends. She'd wanted so desperately to be forgiven, to erase the wrong she'd done and start anew. And Malia had let her. Malia had never really blamed her for what happened. Allison used to think the fact that they could be friends after that must have sounded so bizarre to some. But now, she wondered if it had a purpose somehow. But what did Malia gain by befriending Allison?
In the weeks since they'd become friends, they had done gymnastics, went skating, ate their weight in junk food. They'd survived a serial killer and leaned on each other. They'd shared laughter and secrets and hopes and dreams and hurt and pain. She'd confided in Malia her fear and helplessness, her insecurities, her suspicion of her family…
That part hurt the most.
How many times had she told Malia that she thought there was something strange going on at home? That she thought her dad or Kate was hiding something from her? Did Malia know? She hadn't seemed surprised to see Allison's dad nearly run Scott over. Was that it? She'd known the Argent family secret and was testing Allison out to see how much she knew? Was that all their friendship had ever been? Some ploy tied into a larger conspiracy?
"Last night, when we were trapped in the school and you were out there, trying to help us, I was scared. Not just for me, but for you. And when I got out and you weren't there, when I couldn't' find you, I… I thought the worst. And I realized that… you're my best friend. It probably shouldn't take a serial killer to figure that out, but… I don't know. The thought of losing you really scared me and… I know things are crazy and weird and it feels like they're only getting worse, but… I wanted you to know that. Because you matter to me, and I thought for a second that I might not get to tell you. And I think we should say those things. Especially when we're scared."
Malia nodded, before saying, soft and sincere, "You're my best friend, too."
Allison opened her eyes, blinking against the sting of tears, and rubbed her cheek against her arm, hoping the fabric of her sweater would absorb any tears that managed to escape.
…
"Good luck getting a signal down here," Stiles muttered. "Oh, MiFi."
Peter unfolded the laptop.
"And you're a Mac guy." Stiles shook his head. "Does that go for all werewolves, or just a personal preference?"
Peter stared at him, impatient and unamused. "Turn it on. Get connected."
"You know, you're really killing the whole werewolf mystique thing here." Stiles turned the phone over to look at the SSID and WiFi password. "Look, you still need Scott's username and password, and I'm sorry, but I don't know them."
"You know both of them," Peter said flatly.
Stiles' brows hiked with faux-innocence. "No, I don't."
"Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you're lying."
"Dude, I swear to God—"
Peter gripped Stiles by his neck and slammed his face down against the laptop keyboard.
Stiles cried out in pain, pinned in place.
"I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don't make me persuade you."
…
Jackson marched into the ICU, a hand gripped around the nape of his neck, his nervous eyes bouncing all over. "Where is she?"
Erica followed behind him, her arms hugged around herself. It had been a struggle to get upstairs, mostly because Jackson kept arguing with paramedics and police officers that he didn't have time to give them a statement on what happened on the field. Erica thought that was a bit much considering Jackson had only been involved in picking Lydia's limp body up from the field and running her back to the school. Once the ambulance arrived, he'd been forced back. She blamed his distraction for why he let her tag along on the ride to the hospital. Erica was about 90 percent sure he didn't even remember she was there with him.
Jackson stumbled to a stop in front of the windows looking in on Lydia. Erica fell into step next to him, staring at Lydia's bruised arm and the wire that led to her breathing mask. Shock and relief filled her in equal measure. She was alive… For a moment, out there on the field, she couldn't imagine Lydia could walk away from this.
"Hey! Hey!" Sheriff Stilinski spun Jackson around to face him and pointed an angry finger toward Lydia. "What the hell happened to that girl?"
"I- I don't know," Jackson stammered. "I went out looking for her—"
"What, you just happened to wander into the middle of that field, and you just found her there like that? Don't lie to me, son."
He turned to Erica and hesitated. "No, I—"
"Hey!" Sheriff Stilinski grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him back against a wall. "What happened to that girl?" he demanded.
Erica flinched, arms tightening around herself.
"This isn't my fault!" Jackson shouted.
"She's your girlfriend!" Sheriff Stilinski pulled Jackson forward and knocked him back against the wall. "That's your responsibility!"
"No, she's not, okay?" Jackson's voice was shaking. "She didn't go to the formal with me."
Sheriff Stilinski's brow furrowed. "Then who'd she go with?"
Jackson stared at him. "Do you really wanna know?" At Stilinski's impatient frown, Jackson told him, "She went with Stiles."
"What?" Stilinski's voice went quiet. He looked to Erica then, as if she could confirm. For a moment, she felt words crowd her throat. An explanation for all that had happened on that field. But she would only sound crazy, wouldn't she? She needed to talk to Malia. So, instead, all she did was jerk her head in a nod.
Worried now, Stilinski released Jackson. His breathing was shaky as he stepped back and turned to his deputies. "Somebody better find my son."
…
"What happens after you find Derek?" Stiles wondered.
"Don't think Stiles. Type."
Briefly, Stiles closed his eyes, his knees bouncing nervously. "You're gonna kill people, aren't you?"
"Only… the responsible ones."
Except that wasn't true. Because a custodian and librarian were dead. Were they just collateral damage? Did they not matter in the grand scheme? Did Peter not even consider their lives on the scales of his personal justice? They had families, people who cared about them, people who mourned. Malia carried the guilt of not getting Trisha out. Scott felt guilty for calling the Alpha to the school and putting everyone in danger in the first place. It wasn't just about Peter's personal vendetta, not if he was willing to mow down anyone who got in the way.
Frowning, Stiles shook his head. "Look, if I do this, you have to promise to leave Scott out of it."
Peter took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Do you know why wolves hunt in packs?"
Stiles slumped, rolling his eyes.
"It's because their favorite prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I need Derek and Scott. And if I can convince that feisty little coyote friend of yours, I'll use her too. All of them, Stiles. I need all of them."
"They won't help you. You ruined Scott's life and Malia… She hates you."
"Oh, they will." Peter looked smugly amused. "Because it will save Allison. And you will because it will save Scott."
Stiles clenched his teeth and bowed his head.
"Your best friend… whom you know so well, you even have his username and password."
Letting out a shaky sigh, Stiles pulled the laptop a little closer and typed it in.
Peter peered at the screen. "His username is ScottMcCall11. And his password is malia42." Peter scoffed. "Creative."
"Yeah, didn't even use a symbol. It's sloppy, really." Stile squinted at him. "Still want him in your pack?"
Peter rolled his eyes.
…
Malia stumbled into the ICU, casting a quick glance at a few deputies milling around.
Sheriff Stilinski spotted her immediately and crossed the space between them in two long strides. "Malia!" He gripped her shoulders tightly. "Tell me you've seen Stiles. Tell me you've heard from him."
Malia stared up into his terrified face and swallowed. "No, I… Not for a while. Since the dance. I heard Lydia was hurt."
His shoulders fell and his eyes squeezed shut, swamped with a sudden grief.
"I… I'm sure he's okay. I mean, he's Stiles." She reached up, patting his shoulder, even as her own stomach twisted and turned. "He'll be okay."
Opening his eyes, he stared at her a beat, and then nodded. "Go, be with your friends." His hands fell away, hanging limp and useless at his sides.
Malia lingered, but eventually made her way toward Jackson and Erica.
Jackson turned to look at her, his face twisted in the sincerest show of regret she'd ever seen on him. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his pants, shoulders slumped. He looked younger, somehow. More human. Not the caricature of a smug snob that he often portrayed.
When Erica finally spotted her, tears immediately filled her eyes and she lunged forward, burying herself in Malia's arms. She clutched at Malia, gripping her shoulders like a life preserver. "He bit her, just tore into her neck with these—these huge fangs. And then he just tossed her away like garbage."
"It's okay." Malia stroked her hair soothingly. "Erica, it's okay. I just need you to tell me exactly what happened."
Erica gulped down air. "I… I went to tell Stiles about Scott, but he was looking for Lydia. The stadium lights came on, so we went to the lacrosse field. The A-Alpha was there." She let out a strangled whimper. "He hurt Lydia and Stiles begged him not to kill her. He agreed but only if Stiles helped him find Derek Hale. Stiles said he could find S-Scott's phone with GPS. Stiles didn't want to go, but the Alpha made him. He said he could call Jackson but that was it. And then I… I held Lydia's neck closed wi-with my h-hand—"
"You probably saved her life, Erica. You did so good."
Erica leaned back and stared up at her. "I didn't do enough. I should've helped. I should've done something."
"You did." Malia gripped her arms and squeezed. "Erica, you did exactly what you should've done. Okay?"
Tears dribbled down her cheeks. "What if he kills Stiles?" she whispered.
Malia felt her heart tear. "He won't." She blinked quickly. "Okay?"
Erica didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded all the same.
"Now, are you okay? He didn't hurt you?"
Erica shook her head. "Just psychologically," she said with a faint laugh.
"Scars all the same, I guess." Malia rubbed her arms soothingly. "Hey, listen. Why don't you grab something to drink and find somewhere to sit? Okay?"
Erica sniffled. "I don't have any money on me."
Jackson dug out his wallet and handed her a twenty. "Here."
Erica stared at it incomprehensibly until Jackson picked up her hand, put the money in it, and stared at her expectantly.
"Okay." She blinked a few times and then stumbled off toward the vending machines.
"She's gonna need a decade of therapy," he muttered.
Malia stared at him, an eyebrow raised. "And you won't because you're so tough and superior and made for this life, right?"
He rolled his eyes, but the veneer of bravado flickered away. His gaze wandered back to the window. "Will she die?"
Malia stepped closer, peering down at Lydia's prone figure. "I don't know… If she lives, she'll turn."
His mouth twisted at that.
Malia scowled. "Please don't tell me you envy her for that. Look at her, Jackson." She waved a hand at the window. "Look at what happened tonight."
"I am." He turned a flat look on her. "Lydia was human and now she'll either die or evolve." His mouth twisted up in a sneer. "Where were you tonight? Huh? Watching out for Allison and McCall? As if they need it. McCall can protect himself and Allison has a whole hunter family to watch her back. But what about Lydia? What about us frail humans?"
Malia frowned. "What was she doing out in that field?"
Jackson flinched and looked away, sullenly peering at his reflection in the window. "Who knows?"
Malia stared at his profile, watching his jaw clench.
A thump drew her attention then and she turned to see a frustrated and overwhelmed Erica slamming her hand against the vending machine. Sighing, Malia left Jackson in favor of making sure Erica didn't get admitted to the hospital in her own right.
…
High above, Scott carefully climbed a rock that overlooked Beacon Hills. His stomach turned when he reached the top, the sheer drop ahead making him somewhat dizzy.
Taking a deep breath, he focused. His nails grew long and tapered, his face flattened, and his teeth elongated, feeling strange and sharp in his mouth.
Rearing his head back, he let out a long, rumbling howl that shook the very rock he was perched on. It echoed down into the valley. Birds took flight from the trees, scattering into the sky. Again and again, he howled.
…
Below, in the dark, wet basement he was being stowed in, a tired and weak Derek struggled to raise his head as he heard Scott howl.
A flood of hope and determination filled him.
…
Scott stepped backwards from the rock, waiting and listening for some sign of Derek. But there was nothing. Was he not loud enough? Or was it worse? Was Derek already dead? Time passed and still there was nothing. Hopeless defeat began to well. He was too late. And now, he might've just given the Alpha or even Argent an idea of where he was. Malia was going to kill him. Turning, he started to walk away. Maybe he could get back to Malia's before she returned from the hospital.
But then—
A howl broke through the quiet, echoing back to him, long and mournful. Wounded.
Derek.
Turning, Scott ran toward the sound of his answering howl.
…
"Wait, what th—" Stiles stared at the computer screen. "That's where they're keeping him? At his own house?" He shook his head. "That can't be right. Scott and Malia have been back there."
Peter squinted for a moment before realization dawned. "Not at it… Under it." He closed the laptop and tucked it back in its bag. "I know exactly where that is." His ears twitched as he heard a distant howl. "And I'm not the only one."
…
Allison stepped off the elevator. She couldn't feel her legs and yet they moved her across the room regardless. She couldn't hear sound; as if everything around her was on mute. She stumbled toward a bank of windows looking in on Lydia, bruised and bandaged, attached to a ventilator. Allison walked closer, feeling dazed. Kate told her Lydia was attacked by the Alpha and left for dead, but she needed to see it for herself. She needed to see her friend.
She stared, unblinking, at Lydia's pale, limp figure.
Blood. Blood everywhere. In flashes of thoughts, of what could be, Allison saw the room, and Lydia covered in blood, arms flailing as she screamed soundlessly, fighting against an invisible figure, her body shredded, head to toe, from curved claws and razor-sharp fangs.
And then, peace again. A girl, laying still in a spotless white bed, almost peaceful in her sleeping state.
Allison raised a hand to the glass, pressing it down flat. It was cool to the touch.
Red screamed across her vision. A flash of Lydia rearing up; ghoulish, terrified, desperate to survive.
Allison flinched and blinked.
Sound rushed into her ears; a crackling overheard speaker, footsteps, medical staff talking.
There was no blood. No attacker. Just Lydia, looking like a particularly tragic Sleeping Beauty, her arm mottled with bruises, wearing a dressing gown she would absolutely hate.
Anger rushed through her.
Lydia was innocent. She'd never done anything to deserve this. And now, here she was, lying in a hospital bed, possibly on the verge of death. This was the third time in a month that she'd been attacked. When would it stop?
When would it stop?
The thought left Allison feeling strangely numb.
Her gaze fell and she pulled back from the window. Turning on her heel, she marched toward the elevator and returned to the main floor. She crossed the parking lot in long, fast strides, and climbed into the SUV.
Kate stared at her searchingly. "You getting it now?"
Allison swallowed tightly.
"It's what they do. And they can't help it."
"All of them?" Allison sounded meek. Lost. Like the little girl she kept insisting she wasn't.
"Yes, Allison. Even Scott."
…
Peter tucked the laptop bag in the back of the car and closed the door with a snap.
Another howl echoed on the wind.
Turning to Stiles, Peter said, "Give me your keys."
Sighing, exasperated, Stiles pulled his keys from his pocket. "Careful. She grinds in second."
Peter immediately squeezed the keys in his hand, bending them to an unusable state.
Stiles let out an exasperated huff and took them back.
Peter walked to the driver's side door of his former nurse's car, ready to leave.
"So, you're not gonna kill me?" When Peter started back to him, Stiles stumbled back, murmuring, "Oh… God…"
"Don't you understand yet? I'm not the bad guy here."
Stiles shored up his courage. "You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, and you're not the bad guy here?"
Clenching his jaw, Peter let out a frustrated sigh. "I like you, Stiles. Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return."
Stiles' shoulders slumped and he struggled not to roll his eyes.
"Do you want the bite?"
Stiles' eyes widened with surprise. "What?"
"Do you want the bite?" Peter enunciated. "If it doesn't kill you— and it could— you'll become like us."
Stiles' gaze fell for a moment, thoughtful. "Like you."
"Yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?" Peter stepped closer. "That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl… You'd be equals. Maybe more."
Stiles' throat bobbed.
Peter reached out and took Stiles' wrist, raising it slowly. He held it just short of his mouth. "Yes or no?" Peter's fangs came out and he turned his head.
Stiles ripped his arm free. Breath shaking with fear and bravado, he told him, "I don't wanna be like you."
"Do you know what I heard just then…? Your heart beating slightly faster over the words 'I don't want.' You may believe that you're telling me the truth, but you're lying to yourself. Goodbye, Stiles." Peter turned to leave.
Stiles drew a breath to say… something. Only nothing came out. The moment had passed.
Peter climbed into the car, taking his offer with him.
…
Scott was confused when he found himself at the Hale house. He'd been here before. He and Malia had come here multiple times and never once found Derek. But this was where Derek's howl had come from. He had to be around here somewhere.
Some searching eventually led him to what looked like a tunnel, covered in old tree roots, and nearly swallowed by the forest surrounding it. He pushed open a squat, barred door, the hinges whining, and crawled inside. The first chunk of it was low and narrow, forcing him to crawl on his hands and knees. Eventually, it opened up, tall enough he could stand.
It smelled damp and unused; left four years to rot. But the farther he walked, the more he could see and the more signs of recent activity there were. He stepped through a doorway, lined with tattered plastic. There were lights strung along the walls, leading down a long hallway.
Scott had no idea what he would find, but there was no going back now.
…
Stiles pushed off the elevator before the door had completely opened, shoving his way into the ICU. He hurried forward, eyes set on Lydia through the window. He was immediately sidetracked by his father.
"You know what?" His father pointed at him, saying through gritted teeth, "It's good that we're in a hospital, because I'm gonna kill you."
"I'm s— I'm sorry." Stiles pointed his thumb back, over his shoulder. "I lost the keys to my Jeep. I had to run all the way here."
"Stiles, I don't care!"
Stiles' hands flexed against his hips as he leaned up on the tips of his toes, staring past his dad's shoulder to where Lydia lay, her mother gently stroking her hair. "Is she gonna be okay?"
His dad turned to look at them a moment before sighing. His anger bleed away as he admitted, "They don't know, partially because they don't know what happened. She lost a lot of blood, but there's something else going on with her."
"What do you mean?"
"The doctors say it's like she's having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock."
Stiles' eyes bounced around. It had to be from the bite. Was she rejecting it? What did that mean?
His dad's brow furrowed. "Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked her?"
Stiles stared back at him, mouth hung ajar. What the hell was he supposed to say? That a supernatural freaking werewolf did it? "No." He shook his head. "No, I have no idea."
His dad frowned. "What about Scott?"
"What do you mean? What about him?"
"Do you know if he saw anything?"
"What do you—" Stiles shook his head, confused. "Is he not here? What about Malia? Is she here?"
"Malia showed up. Said she hadn't heard from you either. Last I saw her, she was with the Reyes girl, trying to calm her down." He shook his head. "No Scott though. I've been calling him on his cell phone, I've gotten no response."
Stiles caught sight of Jackson then, lingering by the window.
Jackson shrugged, mouthing 'I don't know' back at him.
Stiles sighed. "Yeah, you're not gonna get one."
…
Malia paced the hallway, phone pressed to her ear while she wrung her free hand anxiously. "So, you found him?"
"It took some digging, but yeah." Danny paused. "You're still at the hospital, right?"
Malia frowned. "Yeah. Lydia's on a ventilator and Erica's finally stopped beating up vending machines when they won't take Jackson's money."
"Well, you'll be happy to know that Stiles is a lot closer than you think."
Malia's heart squeezed. "He's in the hospital?"
"That's what the location says. I can give you the exact latitude and longitude, but I'm your math tutor so I doubt that'll help."
Malia felt faint for a moment and fell back against the wall. If his phone was in the hospital then that meant he could've been admitted… Or his body could be taking up space in the morgue while his belongings were tucked away in a plastic bag somewhere. Tears bit at her eyes.
"Malia? Are you there?"
"Yeah," she choked out.
"This is a good thing, right? He probably went there to see how Lydia was doing."
Sniffling, she rubbed her hand over her nose and nodded. "Yeah, probably."
"Call me when you find him. Let me know you're okay."
"Uh-huh. I will. Thanks." She hung up quickly and shoved her phone in her pocket. Taking a second, she tried to pull herself together. Danny was probably right. Stiles was okay. He's okay, he's okay, he's okay. He had to be.
Malia's hands started to shake; she dug them into the fabric of her sweater, feeling it tear under her claws— Claws?
"Malia?"
She looked up sharply, only to spot Erica standing down the hall.
Taking in a deep, shaky breath, she said, "I'm fine. Just… Go sit down."
"You don't look fine…" Erica tentatively walked closer. "Your eyes…"
Malia squeezed them shut, realizing they were probably blaring a bright, obvious yellow. "Erica, please, I'm still figuring out shifting. I really don't want to turn into a coyote in the middle of a hospital."
Erica made a strangled noise. "You can turn into a real coyote?"
"Don't sound so excited," she bit out, opening her eyes to glare. "It sucks and it's terrifying and I hate it!" Every word she spoke radiated with a growl.
"Okay." Erica held her hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to tell you that… Stiles is here. He's okay."
Malia blinked. For a moment, it didn't register with her. And then— "Stiles?"
Erica nodded, a faint smile turning up her mouth. "He showed up a little while ago. He's talking to his dad."
Relief swamped her and Malia's knees shook. "Thank God," she muttered. Slowly, she felt her nails retract and her teeth shorten. When she looked at Erica, she could tell she was back to normal. Pushing off the wall, she walked forward on shaky legs.
Erica eyes her curiously. "The eyes are kind of cool… The sideburns less so."
Malia cracked a laugh. "They're not my favorite part either."
…
A screen lit up on the table with Derek's collected things. You Have 21 Missed Calls
A spotlight lit up and shone on Derek's face. He slowly opened his eyes to glare at the man who had been torturing him all day long. "Ready to have some more fun?" He admired his hand. "To be honest, my knuckles are kind of hurting. So, I brought some help." He swung a bat forward and waved it threateningly. "But I need to warn ya, I used to play in college." He reared the bat back and brought it forward, only for it to be caught in Derek's hand.
"I brought a little help too."
His torturer turned to look behind him and found Scott standing menacingly in the doorway.
Before he could react, Derek swung, upper-cutting him across the room. He slammed into a wall and crumbled to the floor.
…
Malia looked up and let out a heavy sigh of relief as Stiles stepped out from a hallway. "You're okay!" She crossed the room and grabbed him into a hug.
Stiles returned it, but his mind was clearly racing. "So are you. Where the hell is Scott? Also! I think I cracked it!"
"What?" She leaned back and shook her head. "Scott's fine, he's at my house. Well, fine might be pushing it. Argent knows he's a werewolf. He tried to kill him. Didn't Erica tell you?"
"We were a little preoccupied with Peter trying to kill Lydia, we didn't really have time to talk." His gaze bounced around curiously. "Is she okay? Peter's mildly terrifying."
"She's traumatized but I think she'll be okay." Honestly, Erica was handling things way better than Malia would have expected, given the circumstances. It gave her a little hope that she might still have a friend when all of this was done and over with.
"It was Jackson who told Argent," Stiles told her. "He found Jackson in the woods; it's a long story. But are you saying Argent immediately tried to kill him?"
"Yeah, tried to squish him between two trucks. It was insane! Scott jumped out of the way, but he turned. Allison, her dad, Erica— they all saw."
Frowning, Stiles' brow furrowed. "And they let him go?"
"I told him to run, but they didn't follow. I think Allison's dad was more worried about getting her away from the big bad wolf than anything else." Malia shrugged. "Anyway, we don't know what their plan is so we went to my house. But then you texted and Erica told me Peter took you. I had Danny track your phone. When I realized you were here, I thought the worst…"
Stiles' face softened. "I'm fine. I'm going to have nightmares for literal years, but he didn't hurt me."
Malia nodded. "Erica said he wanted you to find Derek. Did you?"
"Yes! Which reminds me, I figured out the fires."
"The what?"
"The fires!" His eyes widened. "Peter said he was getting revenge for the death of his family, right? Well, I figured out who did it. My dad has a key witness that said the whole thing was organized by a young woman. Probably in her late 20s now. Their big clue is that she has a pendant, a, uh, a necklace. Really distinct." He stared at her knowingly. "Like the one Kate Argent gave Allison."
Malia's brow furrowed. "Didn't Derek already tell us the Argents did it?"
"I mean, yeah, he inferred. But he didn't say for sure. I thought we were all on the bandwagon of maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but Derek was clearly biased in the situation. Anyway, now we know for sure. Kate Argent did this. Which means Kate, not Allison, should be Peter's next target."
"Except if Peter wants revenge for his entire family then why not kill all of Kate's?" Malia shook her head. "He was saving them for last…" She paused. "Wait, you said you found Derek."
"Yeah, and you'll never guess where."
Malia rolled her eyes. "Where, Stiles?"
His eyes bounced around, a plan starting to form in his head. "We need to get Scott. Is your truck here?"
Malia nodded. "Yeah, it's outside."
They started walking down the hallway, only to have Jackson fall into step with them.
He looked between them curiously. "Where are you going?"
"To get Scott," Stiles answered.
"You don't have a car," he reminded him.
"I have my dad's truck." Malia eyed him skeptically. "What do you care?"
He frowned. "My car is faster."
"Your car is the size of a tic tac." Malia shook her head. "Stay here. Keep an eye on Lydia."
Erica spotted them then and made her way over. "What's going on?"
"They're going to get Scott," Jackson answered.
"Is that safe?" Erica glanced around nervously. "What if Allison's dad shows up?"
Jackson winced.
"Look, this is a lot more complicated than either of you. We need to find Scott and Derek and right here is probably the safest place for both of you." Malia looked between them. "So, just stay put."
Jackson shook his head. "I'll come. I can help."
"Look, just because you feel guilty all of a sudden doesn't make it okay, all right? Half of this is still your fault."
Jackson's eyes flattened, his expression going blank. "I get it. I screwed up." His gaze flickered toward Malia. "I didn't listen to your repeated warnings that the Argents were dangerous." He waved a hand toward the elevator. "I'm the one that told them what Scott was, so if something happens to him… That's on me."
Malia stared at him a beat. "Never thought I'd see the day a real boy poked through the veneer."
He rolled his eyes. "Do you want my help or—?" His voice cut out as he stared past them.
Malia felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise. Slowly, she turned around, only to be met with the grinning face of Chris Argent. Two large men stood at his back, looking ready and eager for a fight.
Argent stared right at her. "Malia… Just who I was looking for." His gaze flickered around to the other three. "Or maybe all of you can be of help."
Malia felt the back of Stiles' hand press against hers; a small comfort in the face of impending doom.
"I was wondering if you can tell me where Scott McCall is."
…
"Scott, help me with this." Derek ripped off the tape holding the electric lines to his skin and reached for the other cuff keeping him stuck to the metal bars.
"I will, but I want your help."
"What?"
"With Peter. You need to tell me how to stop him. The Argents know what I am now, and Peter is a threat to Allison."
"Allison is an Argent! She's a hunter, Scott. She's your enemy."
"She's my friend!" he shouted back. "And she's innocent in all this. She didn't kill your family. She's just a seventeen-year-old girl."
"Her family decimated mine. You think I care if she pays for the rest of their sins?"
"Shouldn't you?" Scott's brow furrowed. "The people who did something wrong here, they need to pay. But there are people caught in the middle that shouldn't be. Allison is not like her family. They haven't corrupted her."
"Yet. They haven't corrupted her yet. But they will. And the next thing you know, she'll be the one hunting you through these woods."
"I don't believe that." Scott shook his head. "Allison is a good person. I know she is. And so does Malia. Malia cares about her. And I know you care about Malia. If Peter tries to kill Allison, what do you think Malia will do? Just stand by and let it happen? No. She's going to fight Peter and I don't know if she can win. So, will you please just help me?"
Derek glared at him. "We are running out of time. Kate could come back here any minute. So, just get me out of this!" He gave his shackled arm a violent shake. "Get me out right now!"
"Promise you'll help."
"You have no idea what you're doing. Do you get that? The Argents are so much bigger than you can possibly understand. Saving one is not going to endear you to them. In their eyes, you will always be their enemy."
"Maybe," Scott admitted. "But I know something you don't. Peter said he didn't know what he was doing when he killed your sister, right? He lied. Three months ago, my boss told me that someone came into the clinic asking for a copy of a picture. It was of a spiral carved into a deer. Do you wanna know who it was that wanted the picture?"
Derek's brow furrowed.
"Peter's nurse. They brought your sister here so that Peter could kill her and become the Alpha, and that's why you're going to help me."
Derek leaned back against the bars, his face flickering with rage.
Sighing, Scott turned and walked a few paces away. "Just say you'll help me and I'll unlock your other—"
There was a loud clatter then and Scott slowly turned around to see an angry Derek had torn his way free.
Rubbing his sore wrist, he said through gritted teeth, "I'll help you."
…
"Scott McCall," Stiles repeated. "Um, haven't seen him since the dance."
Argent hummed.
"Jackson," Stiles urged. "You?"
Jackson's nervous eyes darted from Stiles to Argent and back. "Uh… I… Um…"
Licking his lips in agitation, Stiles muttered, "Oh, for the love of God…"
Malia reached her leg back and stepped on Jackson's toes.
He let out a high-pitched grunt. "I haven't seen him either," he forced out.
"Mmhmm." Argent swung his gaze to Malia. "How about you, Malia? I saw you there, didn't I? When I was picking up Allison…"
"Haven't seen him since." She stared him down. "If I do, I'll let him know you're looking for him."
Argent's mouth stretched in a smile, his eyebrows flicking up. And then he looked in Erica's direction. "And who's this?"
Malia stepped to the left, blocking Erica from Argent's line of sight. "She's a classmate of Lydia's. She doesn't know Scott."
Argent peered at her a long beat and then nodded. "Okay." He tipped his head to the men behind him, who marched forward and immediately grabbed up Stiles and Jackson, marching them down the hall.
Malia clenched her teeth.
Argent merely motioned, encouraging them to follow the others.
Blowing out an irritated breath, Malia turned on her heel. She grabbed Erica's hand and tugged her along. They walked through a pair of swinging doors to see Stiles and Jackson shoved down against a padded gurney.
Argent followed in behind them, closed the doors, and shoved the lock into place.
Gone was any attempt at being friendly now. Argent turned a dark look on them. "Let's try this again. Where is Scott McCall?"
Malia maneuvered Erica into the corner of the room and stood in front of her, her gaze bouncing from Argent to his two burly thugs. Goon #1 held Jackson by both of his arms while Goon #2 eyed Malia and Erica suspiciously, gun in hand like they might attack at any point. To be fair, she was considering it.
"Have you tried the White Pages?" Stiles snarked.
Argent's gaze flattened before he was pulling Stiles up by the collar of his shirt, rushing him across the room, and slamming him against a cabinet. "Let me ask you something Stiles. Have you ever seen a rabid dog?"
"Not the dog story again," Malia muttered, drawing his attention toward her.
Argent peered at her through narrowed eyes. "Yeah, the dog story, Malia. And you know, the only thing I've ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you wanna know what happened?"
"Not really," Stiles' voice shook, his breathing laboured. "No offense to your storytelling skills."
"He tried to kill me, and I was forced to put a bullet—" He jabbed a finger at Stiles' forehead. "—in his head. The whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me, still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath." He smoothed out Stiles' shirt and pressed a hand against the cabinet, just next to Stiles' head. "Can you imagine that?"
"No. And it sounds like you need to be a little bit more selective—"
Argent slammed both hands against the cabinet. "Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?"
Jackson stared at them, his brow furrowed. He looked back at Malia as if asking for confirmation. She gave him a tiny nod. His brows arched and his throat bobbed. For the first time, Malia felt like he was starting to really register the negatives to this situation instead of always focusing on the positives.
"Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why?" Stiles gritted his teeth. "Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?"
Argent took a step back, raising a censuring finger. He folded it into a fist, let out a laugh, and turned away from Stiles. He looked to Malia for a moment, smiling in that fake way he always did. "I hate to dispel a popular rumor, kids, but we never did that."
Malia frowned. "There were children in that house."
Argent pointed at her, his veneer cracking for a moment. "Speculation is not fact."
Malia stepped forward. Thug #2 pressed a hand to her shoulder, urging her back, but Malia shrugged him off. "Cora Hale was what, nine years old? She burned alive in that basement."
Argent gritted his teeth. "We didn't set that fire and that's final."
"Oh, right," Stiles said. "Derek told us you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it."
Argent glanced at his goons and then at Malia. "Never."
"What if someone does?" Stiles wondered.
"Someone like who?"
"Your sister."
Argent's jaw flexed and he turned sharp, curious eyes on Stiles.
Tension filled the room; everything seemed to teeter on the uncertainty of Argent's reaction. And then, he blew out a long breath. "You have evidence of this, Stiles? Or are you just trying to distract from the main point?"
"I've got the evidence." Stiles nodded. "My dad, he's been looking into these attacks, the ones we both know the Alpha was the cause of. Because Derek was named as the attacker at the school, my dad's been looking into his family, trying to figure out why he would do it."
"I know all this. He linked it back to the fire. What does that have to do with Kate?"
"The video store clerk was a convicted felon with a criminal record that included arson. Reddick and Unger, both victims to the Alpha, both arsonists. The informant says a pretty woman, early 20s at the time, comes up to him in a bar one night and asks him how to commit arson and not get caught. The only defining feature is that she wears a real distinctive pendant necklace. Icing on the cake, Garrison Myers, the bus driver, was an insurance investigator that ruled the fire accidental, probably for a payout. All of them worked together to burn that house down with the Hales inside and they were all brought together by Kate Argent." He jabbed a finger at Argent's chest. "You know it, I know it, the Alpha knows it."
Argent glanced down at his finger and raised an eyebrow.
Clearing his throat, Stiles dropped his hand. "Anyway, the pendant was Kate's before it was Allison's. Right?"
Argent stared at him a moment before his gaze fell to the floor.
Malia pried her mouth open to ask, "What happens now? To Kate?"
Argent stared at her. "I'll take care of it."
"The Alpha will be looking for her and if he's out for revenge, then Allison is in danger."
"Allison is safe," Argent told her firmly.
Malia's eyes narrowed, unconvinced. "At home? With Kate?"
Argent frowned and looked away. He pulled his phone out and dialed Kate's number. It rang once before immediately flicking over to her voicemail.
Erica cleared her throat. "Allison was here," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Malia looked back at her. "What? When?"
"Not for long. A minute or two. She looked in on Lydia and then just… left."
Argent clenched his teeth. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Where is Scott?"
Malia scowled. "What is your obsession with Scott? He's not the one with blood on his hands!"
"If I know Kate, she's after the Alpha, and she took Allison with her."
Malia's chest squeezed.
"What's that have to do with Scott?" Stiles wondered.
Argent glanced at him. "The Alpha is going to need his pack to fight my family, which means he's out there looking for Derek and Scott. Now where is Scott?"
Malia looked at Stiles, who ground his teeth together.
"You don't need Scott, you need Derek. And he's where all this started." Stiles took a deep breath. "We tracked the GPS. He's under the Hale House."
Argent paused, his brow furrowed, and then a realization formed. "The basement… She kept him in the basement his family died in." Under his breath, he muttered, "Christ, Kate." With that, he stepped away from Stiles and motioned to his goons. Jackson was released to stumble away from them, nervous and lost looking.
Argent paused next to Malia. "You're coming with me."
"Like hell!" Stiles cried, lurching away from the cabinet, only to pause when Good #1 pointed a gun at him. He held his hands up even as he struggled not to intervene. "You don't need her. Please."
Malia felt Erica's hand fold around her forearm, squeezing tightly.
"If the Alpha calls on Scott, he'll obey. He won't want to, but he will. I need someone to snap him out of that or I'll be forced to put a sixteen-year-old kid down." He stared at Malia frankly. "Do you want that?"
Malia swallowed tightly. "You can't hurt him. I mean it. He's off limits."
"Malia," Stiles snapped. "You can't be serious."
"I don't have a choice." She raised an eyebrow at Argent. "Do I?"
He merely smiled condescendingly.
Malia turned to Erica and carefully pulled her fingers free. "Stay here," she told her. "Stay with Lydia."
Erica stared at her searchingly, her eyes damp. "Don't go."
Malia tried to smile reassuringly. "Stay with Lydia." With that, she stepped back, clenching her teeth as Argent's hand wound around her elbow and tugged her toward the door.
Jackson stared at her as she passed, his brow furrowed and his chin wobbling.
As they walked through the ICU to the elevator, Malia looked up, staring at Lydia until the doors closed.
Looking from Argent to the goons, she said, "Shotgun."
…
Scott trudged toward the Hale house, Derek at his back, one hand hooked over Scott's shoulder as he struggled to follow. His breathing was noticeably laboured. It was clear that whatever Kate had done to him, he was far from fully healed. "We should go to Malia's," Scott insisted. "She's probably back from the hospital by now. She'll be worried."
"You said you wanted to fight Peter. Does he know where Malia lives?"
"No. And I didn't mean fight him tonight. You can barely hold yourself upright. I just meant that if Peter goes on the attack against Allison and her family, then we need to be ready to fend him off."
"You mean ready to kill him."
Scott sighed. "If we have to, yeah."
"We have to." Derek pulled at his shoulder. "Scott, there's no chance that someone doesn't die, all right? The only way to stop Peter is to kill him. There is no alternative."
Scott nodded faintly. "I know that. I just… This isn't who I thought I'd be."
"What? A killer?" Derek snorted. "None us think we will." He winced then, his feet slowing. His hand fell from Scott's shoulder, and he pushed himself upright, his ribs screaming in protest.
Scott kept walking, climbing a small hill.
Derek wrapped an arm around himself and leaned against a tree. His gaze searched the area, brow furrowed, and a sense of wrongness suddenly flooding him. It was too quiet. Too still. "Hold on. Something doesn't feel right."
Scott looked back at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know. It's— It's kind of like it's—"
"No, don't say 'too easy,'" Scott growled. "People say 'too easy' and bad things happen."
Derek rolled his eyes.
"What, do you think finding you was easy? Nearly getting pancaked by hunters? None of this has been easy!"
Derek tossed a hand up and nodded. "Fine. You're right."
Relieved, Scott nodded. "Thank you."
A sharp whistle was the only warning before an arrow cut through the air and slammed into Derek's shoulder. It sent him spinning before he collapsed to the ground.
Scott stared in shock before he scanned the trees, only to find Allison crouched on a hill, bow in hand, with a proudly grinning Kate next to her, spouting directions. "Now the leg."
Just as Derek attempted to get up, another arrow pierced his thigh, throwing him back to the ground.
"Flash bolt," Kate said.
Allison pulled her arm back—
"Now."
—and let loose.
"Scott, your eyes!" Derek warned.
The arrow burst on compact against the tree just behind Scott. The explosion knocked him from his feet and the light blinded him. He blinked wildly against blurry vision, shrouded in flares of white.
Derek sat himself up, yanking bolts from his chest and thigh, screaming at the pain. He climbed to his feet, grabbed Scott by the back of his jacket, and yanked at him. "Get up! Let's go!"
"Natural talent," Kate praised.
Gathering up her bow, Allison followed her aunt to where Scott and Derek were stumbling toward the skeleton of Hale house.
…
Stiles and Jackson raced down the hallway toward the elevators.
"What's the plan? What are we doing?"
Stiles was snapping his fingers but not coming up with much. "We go to the Hale house. We get Malia, and Scott if he's there. Screw the rest!"
Jackson nodded, his eyes darting around.
"What about Allison?" Erica asked.
Both boys whirled around to look at her, surprised she'd followed.
"What- What are you doing?" Stiles flapped a hand as if to tell her to go away. "Malia said to stay put. Go! Go keep an eye on Lydia."
Erica glared. "If Malia's in trouble, I'm coming with you."
"To do what?" Jackson wondered.
"Because you're going to be so much more of a help," Erica scoffed.
Stiles' gaze swung back and forth between them. "Molotov," he said, his eyes lighting up.
"What, like at the school?" Jackson frowned.
"Yeah, only this time we make sure we get all the ingredients."
Jackson, at least, attempted to look scolded. "Right. And where are we going to find those?"
Stiles motioned to the hospital around them. "There's gotta be some chemicals around here somewhere, right?"
…
"Is there a reason why Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum didn't join us?" Malia wondered, staring out the window as trees passed them by. "You're expecting a fight, aren't you? Shouldn't you bring back up?"
Argent hummed. "I can handle whatever's coming."
Malia raised an eyebrow. "You don't want them to see, do you?"
He glanced at her but said nothing.
"Is that a part of the code too? You break it, you die." She crossed her arms. "Killing your own sister, that's gotta be hard."
Argent raised an eyebrow. "It's not ideal."
"Or maybe that's not the plan," Malia mused. "Maybe you're trying to save her. Rehabilitate her. Do they have prisons for hunters? Seems dangerous to put you in gen pop. Not for you, obviously, but for everybody else. Unless there's a hunter gang. Is that a thing?"
"I don't remember you being this talkative."
"Nervous habit, probably. That or I'm channelling Stiles since he obviously annoys you." She tapped her fingers against the armrest. "The Alpha has to die. According to your code, that's a given. That doesn't bother me. But what about Derek?"
Argent looked over at her, brow furrowed. "Derek Hale isn't innocent."
"Maybe not, but he didn't kill anybody."
Argent's mouth flattened. "The Hales were a respectable family. I may not like them, but Talia Hale kept her family in line. If you're right and the Alpha is the only one causing these deaths, then he'll pay and him alone."
"So, they live," she insisted. "Scott and Derek, they get to walk away."
Argent sighed, long and loud. "It's in their nature. You look at them and you see people. I don't. I've seen the worst of what they can do. If you think Scott won't tear your throat out on a full moon, you're kidding yourself. Puppy love is not going to protect you against the bloodthirsty nature of the beast. One day, he'll hurt you and he might never forgive himself for it, but it doesn't change the facts. You seem like a smart girl, Malia. Take my advice— never trust an animal."
Malia glared back at him. "If Kate is an example of what humankind can do, I'll take a werewolf any day."
Argent ground his teeth and shook his head.
…
"Why am I in the back?" Stiles complained, wedged in the backseat of Jackson's Porsche.
Jackson glanced back at him and shrugged. "She's a girl."
Erica grinned back at a pouting Stiles. "You should've said shotgun."
He rolled his eyes. "If I'd known the time-sensitive, life-saving mission required it, I would have."
She shrugged. "You should learn to plan ahead."
Offended, he scoffed at her. "I… I am the plan maker, okay? I plan ahead for everything. Or, well, most things. I didn't expect the whole werewolf thing. But once it happened, you bet your ass I started making plans. And back-up plans. And now, here we are with Molotov cocktails, okay? Whose idea was that?" He pointed at himself. "Mine!"
Jackson sighed. "Are you going to talk the whole way there?"
"Because tense silence is so much better?" Stiles snorted.
Jackson looked back at him blandly. "Yeah. It is."
"Rude." Stiles tried to sit back but the sheer lack of room made it incredibly uncomfortable. "I'm calling shotgun on the way back."
Jackson snorted. "Who says I'm driving you back?"
author's note: clearly, my plan to post the last 2-3 chapters before the movie aired did not come to fruition. but i'm still here and editing! there is one, possibly two chapters left after this. there's no chance of it not being completed. after that, i plan to work on season 2, but i likely won't post anything until a good portion of it is written. thank you for continuing to care for and read this story. it's appreciated.
also, i know the 'his username is allison... his password is also allison' line is iconic, but you literally can't have a username and password be the same, and also i like to think scott's just a dash smarter in this story, lol.
as for the movie-that-shall-not-be-named, it's not my canon. i do plan to write the entire series out, but depending on various character arcs, i can't be sure the movie will even be relevant by the time i'm done. so for now, i only plan for the 6 seasons of the show. :)
thanks for reading. please leave a review!
~ Lee | Fina